


Running Out of Options

by MADVS



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MADVS/pseuds/MADVS
Summary: A late night mission goes wrong in a way Hanzo could never imagine and desperate times calls for desperate measures.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A request on tumblr bc I wanted to write Mchanzo omo for a long time

Hanzo was as quiet as one can be, perched a top a secluded building in Kings Row, the cool night breeze on his shoulders, whisking across his sleeve tattoo on his right arm. Waiting for enemy Talon agents show their faces, walking to slow, never suspecting someone was watching the so intently.

A bow sent them in a confused frenzy. After all who used a bow anymore? According to Widowmaker. Hanzo retorted that his bow suited him just fine, that when used by someone who had trained for years it could best any rifle. The Talon agents would just run when they heard a gun being fired, seeing one of them fall to the ground. A bow more or less confused them, as they looked around, expecting them to be out in the open.

Hanzo chuckled. This was easy enough to handle. What Talon was planning was none of Hanzo’s concern, he just had to take out whoever showed up for an allotted time before

Now, if only reinforcements would show up. This mission would take a while, no doubt, the moon would probably be setting by the time he was done here. Sleep he could do without, but he was cursing himself that he didn’t use the bathroom earlier. Shifting his legs as he stayed in the same position, on his knees, the wind slowly picking up. He didn’t so much as shiver. This was nothing. He told him. Until hours started to pass. Nothing

 

Hanzo grunted in irritation, squinting his eyes as he wasn’t sure what was irritating him more. The fact these Agents were taking way too long to show up, or how his bladder was taut as his fullness became more noticeable. He bit his lip, shifting his weight on his foot, wincing in pain as he quickly realized that wasn’t the best idea.

This plan could do downhill quickly. The tides of battle could shift within a fraction of a second, much less than 30 seconds he would need to relieve himself, and that was before factoring how far away the nearest bathroom was. He shifted again, keeping his bow drawn as he did his best to ignore it. Soon enough, the feeling subsided, for now.

Finally, Hanzo’s luck finally picked up. His earpiece buzzing as a transmission from Winston informed that there was another car of Talon agents pulling up. 

Even from were he was positioned he could tell that the car that had just pulled up was that of Talon with its tinted windows and unneeded symbol printed on the front. Of course the intel was nice. He zeroed in, nothing distracting him, not even the swelling his his gut.

 

Wait. 

His eye became wide. One of them was armed, with something more powerful than a pistol.

The man quickly set to aiming all around the perimeter, and took no time at all spotting Hanzo through the inferred scope.

Hanzo aimed on him just as quick and fired the first arrow, hitting him right in the head before he could even shoot.

 

Hanzo gasped, quickly grabbing another arrow from his quiver and shot the one that was trying to radio in the position of the sniper while the others aimed their firearms at the tower he was positioned at. Hanzo took him out first before bothering with the other guards. 

Hanzo exhaled. All of them were dead, laying on the concrete, arrows protruding from their corpses. His breath was labored, as all at once his focus resumed on his own body, realizing just how close he was to loosing it. His hand quickly went down, cupping his crotch through the loose fabric of his outfit as he leaned his head against the ledge of the window he was in. 

The static of his communicator started up at the worst possible time. “Hanzo, there’s another car approaching.”

Hanzo quickly lifted his head, giving his all to recuperate, willing the ache of his bladder to subside just for now. He pressed the button on his ear piece, sounding as calm as he could manage, “Should this be the last of them?”

“We cannot say for sure.”

Winston’s answer made Hanzo rip his hand from the button so he wouldn’t hear the miserable groan he emitted. Mccree would suggest he piss in a bottle, the nearest bottle Hanzo had with him being the canteen he stored on his sash. But that was simply disgusting, no amount of washing would be able to clean it if he was to stoop that low. He furrowed his brows, a determined look on his face as he drew back his bow. He can wait.

Zoning in once more, ignoring all external, or in this case internal sensations. The men were quick to hop out of their car and aim towards him, their objective to take out the pesky sniper that had thwarted their plans thus far. Hanzo took out the sniper first, his gun designed for hitting him this far.

Some ran down the street towards Hanzo’s direction, probably just drones sent for the soul purpose of taking out the pesky sniper that has thwarted their plans thus far. They ran quick, but not quick enough as Hanzo aimed towards the building next to them, the scatter arrow taking them both out upon landing.

That leaves only one. Or so he thought.

Jumping from behind the car, he quickly took the dead sniper’s weapon and worked at aiming towards Hanzo.

Hanzo gasped, arm reaching behind him, grabbing another arrow before the man could aim properly. When he drew back his bow, Hanzo was staring right into the scope. He could only hope that the power exerted in how far back he pulled would be enough, and he fired along side the sound of a gunshot.

It hit. The man fell back.

Behind Hanzo, the bullet whizzing past his hair with a whistle, missing his face by a inch. The shock alone was enough to send Hanzo tumbling back, all at once he could feel himself loose control. He dropped his bow to the side, hands pressing hard on is crotch as he bit his lip, desperately trying to hold it back. Just a little longer.

It wasn’t enough, his heart still racing from shock was too much of a distraction. A hissing sound could be heard, his hands became wet and warm, soon spreading to his thighs, the fabric around his crotch becoming heavy as piss soon streamed out of him in a fast torrent. Under the bright moon he could see how the area around his crotch darkened, the moonlight murky yellow in the reflection of the puddle of urine. 

He let out a shaky exhale of relief, letting his head tilt back as the pressure in his abdomen finally lifted. He could ignore the warm, sticky puddle of piss that grew around him. It just felt too good right now.

He was thankful for the silence, that meant no reports of Talon agents to interrupt this. After a minute or so the stream subsided, leaving him in his own urine. Then all at once it hit him. His face flushed red with embarrassment as he quickly jumped out of the filthy puddle.

“Oh no…” He muttered, looking down at his lower half which was completely soaked, the warmth quickly deeming away as the cold breeze attacked it, sticking uncomfortably to his thighs in a way that made him itch.

And the scent was absolutely foul, crinkling his nose as he went to retrieve his bow which was unfortunately wasn’t spared from the accident. He groaned in disgust as piss dripped off the end, and quickly placed it on the ground away from the puddle. 

He sat by the window, simply waiting for any news for other Talon agents that would show up. A minute passed, two, then five. The dampness around his crotch was cold to the touch and was now itching pretty badly. Hanzo was absolutely miserable, and how would he go about returning to the base? What would he tell Mccree?

After ten minutes Hanzo finally called in, saying that intel showed Talon had aborted the mission. He sighed in relief, thanking Winston for the news. His luck turned around yet again, but now he needed to get back to base without anyone finding out. Mccree sadly wasn’t accompanying him on this mission, but nonetheless he had to call him somehow. “Winston.” He asked, “Call Mccree in, I need his assistance.” 

Winston sounded a tad confused by the request, “I can, but may I ask why?”

“Just do it.” Hanzo muttered, tone sour. It was no way he should be speaking right now when his pride was utterly shattered, but nevertheless Mccree was the only person he would allow around him in such a time. 

“Understood, I’ll tell him to join with the escort to pick you up.” The line went offline, and Hanzo sat back. Now he had to wait, however long that may be. A air shuttle should be there in a few minutes, he just hoped the pilot didn’t care too much. 

Eventually Hanzo looked upon upon hearing a whirring in the distance, arm moving to shield his eye from the lights as the aircraft slowly defended at a reasonable distance above him. Hanzo stood up, shuddering in disgust. The urine had dried somewhat but the dampness still reminded him that he wasn’t out of the wood yet.

A metal ladder slid from the hatch below the ship, and grabbed a hold of it, climbing up it as the plane started to ascend once more. Once inside Hanzo was relieved, smiling even, upon seeing that Mccree had showed up, and with his poncho no less. The rugged man offering a grin and tip of his hat.

“I would think you’d be in your Pajama’s by this hour.” Hanzo said sheepishly.

“Got dressed just for you, darlin’.” He tilted his head, “Now what’s wrong, buttercup? Looking all gloomy.”

Hanzo was surprised at how quickly Mccree noticed that he wasn’t in high spirits. Then again Hanzo was pretty easy to read when something was amiss with him. “Ah…” Now that Mccree was right in front of him, Hanzo was questioning himself on why he thought he’d let even Mccree see him like this. “Your poncho, can I wear it?”

Mccree blinked a few times, but quickly unraveled the thick red poncho from his shoulders and handed it to Hanzo, “You cold, honey?” He asked, watching Hanzo quickly cover himself. He smirked, patting the seat next to him, “Come on honey, have a seat next to me.”

Almost immediately Hanzo felt relief from being covered up, enough that he could handle sitting next to Mccree, of course, he’d have to apologize for getting his poncho dirty. He shivered at the thought.

“Must’ve been rough doing these night missions.” He wrapped his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder, pulling him close. Hanzo sighed in content, being in Mccree’s warm arm made him realize how cold he’s gotten sitting out there in the open breeze. “You must’ve worked up some sort of sweat, because you stink something fierce.”

Hanzo’s eyes shot open at the remark. Normally he’d be quick with some dry remark, but that wasn’t the case when his entire lower half was soaked with piss. He forgot that the scent would linger, “Uh… Jessie.” 

“Hmm? What’s wrong sugarplum? Didn’t mean to offend, ya know.” He chuckled, puling him closer, “But seriously, lets get ya in the shower when we get back.” He pulled him closer with a another low chuckle, “Maybe one together?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes with a groan. He was happy that Mccree was such a dolt, it was distracting Hanzo from his own problem, but maybe he would be able to get through this night without anyone finding out. “I’d prefer one alone for tonight.”

“Aw honey, breaking my heart over here.” Mccree teased, leaning down to press a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, “I’ll just fall right back asleep when we get back anyway. Was in a pretty deep slumber before Winston called me to meet you.” He grinned wickedly, pulling Hanzo close enough that if his grip was any tighter he may as well suffocate him. “You miss me that much?”

Hanzo didn’t say anything back, he only took Mccree’s flesh hand and squeezed it lightly. Mccree chuckled in response before trailing off into humming an old western tune. It was soothing to Hanzo’s horribly embarrassed state. He knew Mccree was perfect to be around. Even if Hanzo had to tell him, he would understand, but as he thought before, maybe that wasn’t need. Though he would definitely have to throw this poncho in the washer before Mccree could say anything about it. 

Eventually as they sat together in silence, the aircraft started to defend once more. The aircraft lacked windows, but they could assume that they were back home at base. Once landed Hanzo made a beeline for the door once it was opened for them while Mccree followed behind.

“Uh, darlin’? Did something spill?” 

“What?!” Hanzo looked back at him, more panicked than angry at the accusation. Don’t tell him that it was still wet enough to soak through. Hanzo reached around, patting the back of his hand against his rear in utter horror as his backside was indeed wet. “O-oh god….”

Mccree’s eyes went wide in realization as Hanzo tried to hide himself. Come to think of it, it did smell like piss on the aircraft. “Darlin… did you?”

“There you are Hanzo.” 

Please, not now. Just let him get into Mccree’s room and he’ll explain there but please don’t let another person see. Before he could run away however, Dr. Zeigler already approached the two from behind, getting a rule glimpse of Hanzo’s wet backside.

“Hanzo.” Thankfully Mercy was too caught up in her primary job to pay to much attention, Hanzo mentally wiped the sweat off his brow. “Winston ordered me to check you for injuries. Please, come with me.”

“D-dr. Zeigler.” Hanzo stammered, face red as his composure steadily undid itself as both Mccree and Mercy were aware that something was a miss. “Can we worry about this tomorrow? I assure you that I’m uninjured.”

Mercy tilted her head, all agents would complain about check ups after late night missions, when all they wanted to go was go too sleep, but Hanzo was normally compliant with these things. 

Hanzo felt Mccree’s large hand rest on his shoulder, smiling at Mercy, “Maybe let Hanzo get cleaned up first, reckon there was a spill somewhere on the shuttle.”

“A spill?” Mercy echoed, blinking at Hanzo as she tapped her chin, “Well, maybe it’s only on the poncho?” She gesture the the thick red drape over Hanzo, “It’ll take a second, I assure you.”

“Please, D. Zeigler, let me get cleaned up first.” Hanzo stepped away. This was just to much, never has he felt so humiliated in all his life. “If I can just let me see you first thing in the morning, I have no injuries to report…”

Mercy furrowed her brow. She wasn’t one to go against orders, but Mccree intervened yet again, “If there’s anything wrong I’ll be sure to haul him in.” He smiled with a oft chuckle, “Though I got to apologize when I drag you out of bed for it. Come on, Doc, he’s had a tough night.”

It was late, and Mercy didn’t like these late night check ups any more than they did. Orders were orders, but she was willing to make some sort of exception, “Well, if you insist there’s nothing wrong. Winston just said Hanzo sounded distraught so he wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“I’m fine.” Hanzo repeating, growing more aggravated if anything, “Now please, let me clean myself up.” He felt like a brat, turning around and storming off to the communal showers without even grabbing a set of fresh clothing. Oh well, he’d just go to Mccree’s room and slip into bed in his nudity, it was better than wearing his piss soaked clothes any longer. Getting them off was simply a relief. He may have come off as entitled, but it was 100 times better than anyone finding out that he pissed himself.

Turning the shower to hot, he quickly set to washing himself, coming to the realization that he was to tired to even stand. Once the embarrassment had run out he was able to focus on his body again, and he was wiped out. All he focused on was scrubbing himself until he reeked of whatever soap he was using, anything to mask the acrid scent of urine.

He heard the door open, and he looked over the short divider of the stalls to see Mccree walk over to him, “Saw you run straight here without a change of clothes.” He said. Hanzo was just wondering how Mccree could stand do be in here while still wearing his thick duster. The cowboy smiled, holding up a pair of clothes for Hanzo too see. “You’ll be out soon, right?”

Hanzo didn’t say anything, turning off the water with the skin on his upper thighs red and sore from being scrubbed too much, “Yes, thank you.” He took the clothes from Mccree and set to dressing himself before stepping out of the bathroom, and with much hesitance, made his way into Mccree’s room.

 

The man had already stripped back down to his own set of pajama’s, probably what he was wearing before he was dragged out of bed to meet him on the aircraft. Hanzo felt a pang of guilt, knowing that it was all so he could cover himself. Still, Hanzo would prefer Mccree finding out than anyone else. He trusted Mccree; in ways he never thought he would.

“Looking much better, babydoll.” Mccree crooned, “Come to bed, you look awfully tired.”

Hopefully Mccree forgot all about it, but that was unlikely. Hanzo slipped into bed next to Mccree, almost instantly he was wrapped between a pair of large arms. Hanzo let out a shaky sigh as Mccree held him close to his chest. “Sorry about your poncho.” Hanzo muttered, rolling himself over so he could press his unbearably red face into Mccree’s chest. 

“Don’t worry about the poncho, you know I got tons of ‘em.”

Hanzo chuckled. The number of poncho’s Mccree owned was ridiculous indeed. Mccree’s dry wit always somehow put him at ease. The smile wa quick to wipe off Hanzo’s face as he was reminded of what had happened. He felt as though this would haunt him for days on end, even when he knew Mccree wouldn’t say anything. He felt like he had to reiterate. 

“Please, don’t tell a soul.”

“Don’t worry darlin’, wouldn’t even dream of it.” Mccree murmured in response, placing a kiss to Hanzo’s hairline before nuzzling back into him. “We all have accidents on the battlefield, even ones like…that.”

“Go back to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's a bit awful but whatever, reviews would be appreciated. It makes this little pervert' day


End file.
